The Morning After the Migraine Before
by CSIBritfan
Summary: My first attempt at a post episode fic and smut. Two firsts for the price of one! Griss has a devastating migraine and pays for it in the morning! GSR
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - This is my first post episode fic. It has spoilers for Series 7 and in particular, Burnout. It s also my first attempt at smut, so please be gentle! That is in the second chapter. This is concerned with the migraine. **

**My thanks go to Lou, or GGgirl, as she's known on the CSI Files forum. She inspired me to have a go at smut, and held my hand while writing it. Cheers, GGG!**

**Disclaimer - I don't now, have never, or ever will own any of the characters or CSI. And that's a crying shame!**

**The Morning After the Migraine Before**

Grissom was ill. His head was spinning and he felt his stomach lurching upwards. His vision reminded him of an untuned television screen. His brain was being squeezed through a straw and he just wanted to lie down. Where was Sara? If he needed her – it was now. A sudden wave of nausea cut his thoughts clean off. He laid back on the couch in his office and closed his eyes. The room finally stopped jiving and he tried to silence the vomit screaming up, rising in his oesophagus, with a series of deep, controlled breaths. His pills weren't kicking in yet. He couldn't take anymore. He'd reached his daily limit. This was a bad one. Bastard paedophiles. Anger surged, momentarily and temporarily, the pain being overwhelmed by the anguish he felt for the mother of young Lucas. A life snuffed out. 'Out, brief candle.'

The glaring corridor lights flooded his vision as he heard the door close and the sound of heels clicking on the wooden floorboards. He kept his eyes closed.

'Hey.'

He managed to raise a half smile.

'Brass said you looked like crap and one of us should take you home. Cath offered to run shift, Warrick and Nick have a DB to deal with and Greg took off early after the courthouse cleared him. So that kind of leaves me…' Sara's words trailed off. 'Griss,' she whispered, 'I didn't know they were this bad…'

'This is the worst for a long time…' he slurred. The drugs were starting on his speech. Soon he would be asleep. 'Take me home.' His imploring was like a knife through her heart. This was not the strong, intelligent genius she knew. This was a man on the verge of … she didn't know what. But it scared the hell out of her.

She leaned forward and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He winced a little, screwing his eyes tight shut.

'Hurts,' he gasped.

'Come on, love,' she encouraged, helping the crumpled entomologist rise to a sitting position. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting, adjusting to the light, opening his eyes and rolling them to wet them in their sockets. They were stinging. Straight lines were wobbly, light was blinding. Anything else was just painful.

'Wait a second…' he stretched his hand forward to halt their progress. He took a few gulps of air and looked down at his feet. Summoning all the strength he had in his legs, he paused before heaving his frame onto his feet. Sara held him steady as he wobbled and balanced himself. He wasn't quite sure where his feet actually were in relation to the rest of his body. He climbed up Sara, until his hands rested on her shoulders. He lifted his head to look in her eyes.

'I'm sorry…' he managed. He was capable of little else. He put one arm around her shoulder and slouched forward. This was all the help he could offer her. 'I'll make it up to you…'

'We can celebrate our anniversary anytime. Let's just get you home and get you well.'

Grissom mentally prepared himself for the door opening and the shock of light and sound. Inside the lab was no different to the rest of Vegas at times like this. He gave the faintest of nods. Sara seized the door handle. She opened it and Grissom gave a sustained moan. They stumbled out into the corridor of the Crime Lab. Sara struggled under his weight and he struggled to stay on his legs.

'Thanks, Sara,' said Captain Brass, as he watched his friend struggle out of the building. 'Keep and eye on him. I'll let Cath know you're staying with him.' He winked and slapped her back lightly. Sara looked horrified. 'Our little secret. I'll be discreet.' he reassured her. 'OK?'

She nodded. She was going to wait until Grissom was well enough before contemplating what had just happened between her and the Captain.

In the car park, she propped her supervisor up, like a cardboard cut out, against the car door as she fumbled for the keys to her vehicle. The beep from the alarm let her know the door was ready for action and she opened it. Grissom made a lurch for the door and slid into the passenger seat. He blindly buckled the seat belt and leant back onto the head rest, his eyes closed. In the natural light of the early morning, Sara noticed his pallor. He was almost white. His grey hair was tinted with moisture around his temples, sweat beads were forming on his brow. Sara didn't know how to deal with him when he was like this. Should she see him to the door or put him to bed? She closed the door on him and walked round the front of the car and climbed into the driver seat. She felt a clammy hand on hers. She turned to look at her passenger.

'In case I fall asleep on you, thank you. Happy anniversary too,' he croaked. He squeezed her land lightly. She smiled at him.

'You too. Now rest. I'll take you to your place. It's a forty five minute drive so make the most of it.'

The drive was quiet. A few gentle snuffles from Grissom were the only human noises against the beat of the car engine. Sara sneaked little looks at him as and when the traffic allowed. She was worried. She didn't like to see him like this. He never needed anyone, especially when he was ill. As he told her about his migraines one night, she never dreamed they'd be as debilitating as this one was. She thought he was doing the man thing… everything was twice as bad as it actually was… But here was a shell of the man she loved. She gripped the steering wheel hard.

She pulled up outside Grissom's house and put the hand brake on. She ever so gently stroked the side of his face, his cheek getting the sand paper quality of a man unshaven for twenty four hours. His eyes flickered open under the delicate ministrations.

'We are here,' she gently reassured.

'Will you come in?' His question was almost painful.

'Brass has squared it with Catherine, so I suppose that's a yes.' She smiled at him, his blue eyes barely visible through the heavy eyelids weighing down like shutters.

He made an effort to open the door and pushed it open, allowing him to swing his feet and legs onto the pavement. Sara was standing there by the time he dragged himself up via the door frame. An impulse to hold him came over her and Sara pulled him into her arms. He fell against her. His arms arcing round her waist in a comfortable fit. One of her arms circled his shoulder, another cradled his head, her fingers twirling in his hair. He was as limp as a rag doll.

'I'll be Ok, don't worry,' he said, as he held on to her – partly to reassure her, partly to keep himself steady. 'I just need a few hours sleep. I'll be fine, I promise,'

Sara separated herself from him and studied him. Finally making eye contact, she nodded.

Silently, they entered his house. He held her hand and led her to his bedroom. He started to fumble with his shirt.

'Need any help?'

'Not tonight, Josephine. I have a headache.'

'I can see you're starting to feel better. I'll get you a glass of water.'

Relief started to flush through her system. If he was cracking innuendos off, he was going to be alright. Even if he was just quoting Napoleon. A slight smile creaked at the corners of her lips. She became aware of an ache in her jaw line, the first place tension housed itself in her body. As she ran the tap to access colder water, she unclenched her teeth and exercised her bottom jaw from side to side. She filled the glass from the side of the sink. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Large black rings of worry were circled around her brown eyes. She felt exhausted. And she wasn't the one who was ill.

She splashed the cold water on her face. It was invigorating. It was icy. She dampened down her face on the towel. It smelled of Grissom. She took a deep breath, savouring the lingering scent of him. It was all she was going to get of him on their anniversary. But she could wait, she'd waited patiently for many years. He was hers now. Neither was going anywhere.

She took the glass into the bedroom. Grissom had managed to get out of most of his clothes and was laying flat out on his front, just his boxers hiding his blushes. He patted the space at the side of him.

'Please…' he whispered, his face muffled by the blue pillow he was laying on.

She smiled at him. She kicked her shoes off and lay at his side. He lifted his arm up for her to slide underneath it. She placed her hand over his and gently stroked his fingers.

'It wasn't you, was it?'

'Not me, what?'

'Who put the loud music on in the lab?'

'No. But Greg doesn't know about these migraines. He needs support too. It's the inquest soon. You won't shout at me like you reprimand him.'

'He thought I'd shout at him?' Grissom was shocked by her frankness.

'I'm the only one who tells him he's doing a good job. He is desperate to impress you. He just wants a little recognition. He feels he's failing you as no other CSI has had to make the decisions he's had to. He's terrified you disapprove.'

'I'll try harder. I promise…'

'That's all he and I ask for. Griss? Griss?'

She looked over at him. He was sound asleep. The drugs would be doing their thing. He looked so peaceful. She closed her eyes, and before she knew what had hit her she was fast asleep her self, dreaming of Grissom and the things she would do to his body when he was well enough to take it.

**Smut comes to those who wait! I'll try and post the final chapter later in the week. Please leave a review if you'd like to. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - My apologies for this taking so long. Everytime I tried to upload it, the system crashed. Sorry.**

**Many thanks for the lovely reviews you left too. I'm glad you think I captured Grissom and Sara. Please feel free to leave more. if you'd like to.**

**Diclaimer - If I owned them, I'd make them do this every episode!**

**Many Thanks to GGgirl for encouraging the filth out of me! Cheers, chuck!**

Grissom rolled over on to his side, spooning up against his bed mate. He sniffled a bit and courageously began to open an inquisitive eye. The late afternoon sun was slicing through the slots in the blinds. His eyeball didn't feel like it was being prodded with a stick. That was good. Gently, he cranked open his other eye and blinked a few times to just to check his vision was clear. He breathed out a huge sigh of relief. The migraine was gone. His sight was restored and his head no longer felt like a samba party was being held in his brain. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and a wicked thought over took him. He began to cunningly wake her up.

A little peck here, a gentle kiss there, a circle drawn by a lazy finger across her back. He started warming to his task.

'I see you are feeling better…'Sara yawned, stretching her arms over her head and rolling over to face him.

'Are you awake?' he unnecessarily questioned.

'Mmmmmm. Someone just keeps on disturbing me,' she commented, giving herself one final, long limbed stretch. 'Are you feeling OK now?' A look of concern was still outlined on her face.

He looked down the bed towards his duvet covered feet.

'Yes,' he muttered, 'I just feel a little foolish and more than a bit guilty.'

'Don't be,' Sara cajoled, helping her arm curl around his strong shoulders, 'everyone gets under the weather from time to time. It was a nasty investigation, and by all accounts, that pervert was playing with your head in there.'

'And I missed out on anniversary food and sex, so you missed out as well…'

'No, I didn't,' she threw back at him. 'While you were crashed out, Greg took me for dinner and Nicky gave me a good seeing to in the print lab…'

'That's it, kick a man when he's down,' Grissom grumbled, snuggling in closer, so he was almost wearing her like a coat. But something didn't feel quite right. 'Why are you wearing these clothes?'

'When I got you home, you wanted me to lay with you. You were in a bad way, so I just kicked my boots off and crawled on to the bed. Then you pinned me down with your arm and that was that.'

'I'm quite the romantic, aren't I?' smiled Grissom. 'Here, let me help you get comfortable…'

Grissom reached out for her vest top, but she playfully swatted his hand away.

'I've not had a shower and I've got morning breath, besides, you haven't eaten for twenty four hours and spent the night dry heaving, so I don't think you have the strength to deal with me yet…'Sara teased, pulling a stray curl over her ear.

'Don't you remember anything from your science degree? Two negatives make a positive… and, luckily for you, I also have morning breath…'

'Eww. No! Bathroom, now!' She patted his backside before retracting her arm. She went off into the bathroom, followed by a downcast Grissom.

As Sara brushed her teeth, Grissom threw handfuls of water on his face. He looked up at the mirror he shared with his reflection and groaned. 'I look like dog scat,' he groused, pulling his face in a multitude of directions, concluding with scraping his hands down his face, dragging the skin around his eye sockets down his cheeks. He slapped them to try and paint a little more colour on them, and then rested his hands on the rim of the sink.

A minty fresh girlfriend met him in the mirror. She ruffled his hair and smiled.

'You're tired, love, that's all. Those pills could knock out a horse and you were fully loaded up. Don't get all down about it. Besides, I think you look dashing and a bit, well, sexy… with the scruff coming through …' She ran a finger across his jaw line.

'How come I see a stressed out, greying, middle aged forensic entomologist and you see…'

'… a hunky, half naked, well built sex God?' she innocently finished for him. 'It's because I love you, faults and all. Now, brush your teeth.'

She thrust a toothpaste loaded brush into his left hand. He grumbled a bit more.

He set to, scrubbing molars, incisors and canines. A quick swill of water and he was good to go. He turned to show her, manic grimace on his face to demonstrate his clean teeth. But she wasn't there. A puzzled look crossed Grissom's face. A gush of water thrashed against the shower cubicle. He looked on the floor and saw a pile of well used clothing. He got it. And she was going to get it good as well.

He dropped his boxers to the floor and quietly pulled the shower door open. A burst of steam and lavender shower wash caressed his aching, post migraine body. He could scarcely make out her form in the hot mist, so he did the best he could to find her – he felt his way to her, on her, around her. She emitted a long gasp of pleasure.

'You took your time,' Sara crooned, wrapping her nubile form around the pleasantly surprised supervisor of the nightshift.

'I'm a slow starter,' he growled in her left ear, taking the chance to roll the tip of his tongue round her lobe, 'but once I get going –'

'There's no stopping you,' she moaned, lifting her leg higher to grind her hips on his.

True to his word, he ever so gently lifted her face to his and touched his lips to hers. Gentle pecks ensued, teasing the sensitivity of each others mouths with slow, casual movements. They picked up speed and intensity, with tongues flicking and bottom lips being lightly sucked on. Hands strayed and roamed across wet skin, sliding down backs, with Sara placing a hand on the curve of his backside. It was such a perfect shape. It was his best and her favourite feature. One day she promised herself she would give it a little bite. But now wasn't the time. Her mouth was already gorgeously occupied. A gasp reverberated round the cubicle. Grissom was spurred on by her reaction to his work.

He reached up and squeezed a handful of shower wash into his hand.

'Turn round,' he begged, rubbing his foamy hands together. She complied, with an anticipatory smile forming on her features.

He pressed himself to her back, while slowly massaging the gel into her shoulders. He swept his clever fingers over them, down her arms and brought them back up, before sweeping them over her shoulders and down her chest, retracting back before plunging down once more, this time rounding her breasts, encompassing each one in his hands and in soap, before returning to her shoulders. Her head lifelessly limped backwards onto his chest. The smile was unmistakable. Her eyes firmly closed. Her hands groped behind him, squeezing his butt cheeks without any sense of control in her grasping. He lasciviously teased the flesh on her exposed neck with tongue and lips, as she pulled him into her, like a second skin. Water cascaded down them, cleansing them of their sins to be shortly committed.

Her responses encouraged him, and her movements engorged his manhood. It prodded into her back, catching her attention immediately.

'Hello,' she managed to exhale, 'is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?'

'See, smell, taste, hear and feel,' Grissom acknowledged, punctuating each word with a lingering kiss, nuzzling into her neck.'

Sara turned round and smiled into his kiss. He cocked his head to the side, smirking, with water spraying into his face.

'My turn, dirty boy,' she grinned, grabbing a handful of soap herself. She never took her eyes away from his as she slowly pressed her hands onto his chest, drawing circles over his twitching pectoral muscles. The circles got larger until they ran a full circumference – nipples to hips, sides and shoulders. But she didn't stop there. She had her eyes on a bigger prize - pointing right up at her…

Without missing a beat, her roving fingers slipped down his strong stomach and arched around his hardness. His eyes nearly popped from their sockets as she applied gentle pressure, tracing the underside with tantalising fingertips. He steadied himself with a hand on her shoulder. His knees were feeling weak again, not through sickness this time.

'Sara...' he stammered, 'that's…'

She kissed the words from his lips. Grissom felt his control waning as he pushed Sara into the cold, wet tiles. She was taken by surprise with his actions. But she loved it. He devoured her mouth as he pulled himself up to her. A hand threaded down her flank, the sensitivity found there making her buck under his frame. He made it to her labia, coaxing a reaction from her. He got one. Her eyes opened wide and she was barely able to focus on his handsome face. A finger probed deeper, burrowing into her folds as she gasped her approval. Once more, he nibbled and nuzzled at her neck, his scruff chaffing her skin as he worked. He wanted to allow her to verbalise for him. He loved to hear her in their passionate moments. It was part of the thrill for him - and it turned him on no end.

'Lift your leg for me,' Grissom urged, pressing towards her opening.

She complied, wrapping her left leg further and higher around his hip. She locked her lips on his and kissed the life out of him as he slowly and deliberately teased a finger, then two, into her. Her kisses became more passionate and harder as she felt him working his magic inside her. She inhaled so harshly, she nearly swallowed him whole. Grissom was aware of how much he needed her. Now and always.

'Stop teasing…' she panted. 'I want you…'

Grissom looked into the depths of her eyes. He always checked for permission to enter her. He knew he always had it. It just felt right. He needed, as a gentleman, to know that she was OK. A barely visible nod granted him access.

With a last flick of her clitoris, he removed his dancing, twisting, coaxing fingers. He took hold of himself and hitched her leg higher on his hip. Sara brought her hand to join his, to guide him into her. Gradually, he inched in, gliding up until he was in to his pelvic bone. His hand grabbed Sara's bent leg above the knee and used it as a lever to thrust into her in a careful rhythm. Her hands scraped down his back to his backside. She filled her hands with his rump, pulling at it in time to his movements, making sure she had a complete fill of him. He quickened the pace and his hand moved back to her clitoris, rubbing maddeningly against the tiny pleasure button. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his head, his waist, his shoulders… anywhere she get them. He kept getting faster, deeper, harder until she could take no more.

She cried out, a delirious rapture of 'Oh, Griss's'. He felt her tighten on his flesh, each tweak bringing him closer to his finale. With a groan, Grissom unleashed himself inside her, slowing down after each powerful movement, until he was little more than a twitch in her. He slumped against Sara, breathing heavily, as she bore his weight and ran her fingers through his shower wet curls. He started to pull out of her but she stopped him.

'No,' she pleaded, eyes heavy with spent lust. 'Stay in me a while. I want you close. Hold me.'

He enfolded her in his masculine arms, as requested. He rubbed the side of his face against hers as they gradually came back into the real world.

'Are you growing it back?'

'What?'

'The beard.'

'I am at the moment, but I won't be in a few minutes when I've had a shave. Why?'

'I kind of miss it in this type of situation. It's …erm… stimulating…'

Grissom laughed as he unwound his arms and turned off the shower.

'I don't think you need any help in that department.'

He quickly changed the subject as he helped her out of the unit. 'So?'

She wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist before securing a second under her arms, tucking the overlap in.

'So…?'

'Was I better than Nicky? At anniversary sex?'

'Was that your motivation?' she giggled. 'Then, yes, you were superb, the biggest, the greatest, the best… If that's what a migraine does to you, have more!'

'No thanks,' he grimaced. 'But I'd like more sex with you, if that's acceptable.'

She pulled him towards her, entwining her fingers behind his waist.

'It's not just acceptable, it's compulsory.' She graced his lips with a deep and meaningful kiss. 'Now shave.'

Grissom watched her retract to their bedroom. With a cheeky grin and under his breath, he answered…

'…Yes dear.'


End file.
